It prevented his thinking.
When he went into the middle room to comb his hair he found the Christmas tree sparkling, his wife was making pastry at the table, the baby was sitting up propped in cushions.
"Father," said Millicent, approaching him with a flat blue-and-white angel of cotton-wool, and two ends of cotton--"tie the angel at the top." "Tie it at the top ?" he said, looking down.
"Yes.

At the very top--because it's just come down from the sky." "Ay my word!" he laughed.

And he tied the angel.
Coming downstairs after changing he went into the icy cold parlour, and took his music and a small handbag.

With this he retreated again to the back kitchen.

He was still in trousers and shirt and slippers: but now it was a clean white shirt, and his best black trousers, and new pink and white braces.